


Give me what I want and I'll give you what you like

by Moahoa



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubbles, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, PWP without Porn, it's not explicit but it's sex ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4237260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moahoa/pseuds/Moahoa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shutting down is easy when you are eternally 16. (Kinda PWP smut and a dual character study in one)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give me what I want and I'll give you what you like

 

He's snapping his fingers to the beat of the radio. You don't know this song. Of course, usually you wouldn't be caught dead listening to such decadent music.  
The voice is smooth and raspy at the same time, it resembles white noise more than anything to you. It's hard to focus on something that sounds like gibberish but you still nod your head slightly. You have found that human music is mostly about the beat rather than the train wreck of filth they call language anyway.

 

He takes a swig of the soporifics and joins the background noise. You feel something cold wrap around your hands and grasp tight. You steer your gaze upwards, to the sky. (For peace? an escape maybe?)

All you see is stars that aren't really stars and the vague pinkish outline where the sky shimmers as it reflect the thousand up on thousand of other places, just like this one. You don't feel real anymore, you feel like you're dreaming. It's oddly reassuring even when it shouldn't be, you have dreamt for a long time after all and you will dream for the foreseeable future you have left. This thought makes you reach out your free hand, he hands you the soporifics with a chuckle.You tilt your head back and let the liquid burn all that unwanted self-introspection away until there isn't a drop left in the stupid bottle.

 

”Wow easy there Kan, no need to let tha nerves get a hold of ya.” You think that was meant to sound stand-offish maybe even judgmental but even with that offensive accent of his you can hear the concern. It makes you nauseous.

 

You face him and furrow your brows, trying to replace the fear of nothingness in your stomach with displeasure. It's so easy to find fault in him, he's brash and offensive. There is a thousand things **wrong** with this scenario. For starters this is Alternia, but it's sundown, you should be #gore #bodyhorror and #pyromania right now. Parking a human car on a hill would just be unpractical as your species have advanced way above vehicles with a need for roads eons ago. You tap the hood of said human car and glare.

 

”First of everey thing about this place is historically inaccurate and blatant cultural apropopotion furthermore your thinkiiiing must be severely flawed if you even for a second thought nerves would register in someone raised proud of ooouur culture. ” You take a breath and try to collect yourself, it's not usually this hard to communicate and form coherent sentences, that is as you see it your one and only talent to better this world. Even so letters seems jumbled and far away, as if they were mixed into wriggler food. You curse yourself for the soporifics and try to start again.

”In regar-” You don't get very far.

 

No matter how human he claims to be, he tastes like cold and salt and bubblegum? You knew there was a reason he never lit that godda-gol-gosh-fuckit! cigarette. You'd thought he'd be more careless and eager, maybe even a bit rough, but he's disappointing as always. You shrug his hand away from yours and wrap yourself around him. Arms first, tangled in his hair; then knees, carefully placed on either side of his thighs. It's almost endearing how much he seems to like that, you can feel his grin against your lips. Being as scared of that as you are, you bite it.

 

”fuckin ow Kankri.” He sounds pissed and you don't want to look. You are scared to look, you can't look.

 

You lick your lips and taste salt.

Your eyelids feel heavy but finally you open them.

He's bleeding.

 

”I'm gonna get ya for that.” It's supposed to sound flirty but he sounds hurt. You don't want to look him in the eyes and you no longer trust your words to distract him so you kiss his neck instead. He pulls you down into his lap and let's himself be pampered until you decide to rest for just a while. He wastes no time and pulls it back by your hair with about 0 resistance. He's got you and you know it, you don't even bother closing your mouth properly.

 

It's disgusting and wet when he nudges your tongue with his, but you let him. You let him because it isn't about the sensation in your tounge or the hands rubbing at the base of your horns. It's the way you feel his bloodpusher against your ribs, feel his blood pumping through his fingertips, feel him align with you in the most basic of terms.

 

You don't know when your hips started moving on their own accord, you don't really care. You don't care when his hands find their way under your shirt and to your zipper and Youdon'tcareyoudon'tcareyouyoucan'tseeyoucan'tsee-

 

”Cronus.” You say his name like a prayer and he has you between his fingers, he has you and he wants you to, he wants you, he wants. ”Cro-” He kisses you and pulls, it feels like ending so you open your eyes and you can't help but to **see** it.

 

You see all the the bad things he's done; the mistakes and heartache, the disgusting sexualization of everything, the twisted and dark inside that wants to eat you alive; you see how deep it goes, how far down you sink to try and grasp how he cares so much about how people see him, see you; he sees you as beautiful, he likes you when you unravel, he likes it even more when you smile, not frown, he's grasping at straws, just like with Mituna, he didn't want things to end up this way, doesn't want you this way, though he doesn't understand the word he wants you too...

 

Then your eyes roll back and the world goes white. It's more solid than nothingness, but better than emptiness, you think this is what it would be like to finally stop existing.  
That is, before it all fades and leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

 

_He wants you to **love** him. _

 

Though his eyes are closed, his face is wide open. He's grinning and his euphoria flows through you like a tidal wave.

 

You stare at him, it's ridiculous and impossible to want... You could never.

He just isn't compatible with you.

 

You roll to the side, away from him. You need to get away. You will hurt him, you don't want to hurt him. A zip and a pull and the dream makes you look like this never happened.

 

You should stay celibate, from now on. It'd be for the best. So no one gets the wrong idea. Yes. _Perfect._

 

 

”Kan...”

 

He's realized and you keep walking because there is nothing more terrifying than the feeling of loosing someone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this turned out way more abstract and poetic than intended but that's what happens when you listen to Avril while writing I don't make the rules. (By the way this gets even better if you listen to "Give you what you like" by Avril while reading like a total tool)


End file.
